“If you look closely, you can see similar forms in the border—look here and here.”
The border was intricate. Its scrolls and twists and spirals embellished not only the little squares and triangles that made up the tree puzzle, but also images of men and animals. The colors were vivid: rich strong blue, vibrant red, a touch of gold leaf here and there, a deep olive green. “In this picture,” Stoyan said, “a woman converses with a cat. The creature has one blue and one yellow eye. In the next is a hawk-headed man swinging from a rope and a dog-faced one waiting to catch him.”
“Maybe the spring ritual involves a series of tests.” I peered at the tiny image. “You know, strength, agility, and wit or something like that.”
“I wonder if—”
The words seemed to freeze on Stoyan’s lips. When I glanced at him, he was staring at me with such horror that I looked over my shoulder to see if a monster had suddenly appeared. Irene and most of her group had gone inside the house, leaving only two women sitting farther along the colonnade quietly reading. Stoyan had turned ghostly white, his eyes like saucers.
“Wh—” I began, and a moment later had the sensation of floating out of my body, as if in a dream, so that I was looking down on my own seated figure and that of my companion from some point in the air above myself. But the person on the chair was not Paula in her demure gown and headscarf. It was a woman clad all in black, seated exactly where I had been a moment ago and fixing her lovely violet-blue eyes on Stoyan. Her embroidery trailed across her knees. On its surface, girls danced in a line. The fourth was slim and pale with wavy brown hair and spectacles on a chain around her neck: myself, executed in neat stitches. As for the real Paula, I was no longer part of the world of Irene’s house but in some other realm, held separate until Tati had said or done whatever it was she needed to.
“Where’s Paula?” Stoyan’s voice was a strangled whisper. “What have you done with her?” He was reaching for the knife at his belt. “Answer me!”
Frozen, suspended, I could not speak. I could not tell him to be calm and wait.
“Listen to me!” my sister said. As she spoke, Stoyan whipped the knife out of its sheath and stood up, blade ready to strike. It was one of the worst moments of my life. Every part of me was screaming to intervene, to stop him from doing something terrible, to warn Tati…. And yet I knew I could not. The powerful charm that held me immobile would not be released until this had unfolded in its own way. Along the colonnade, the two women now stood frozen, staring. One had her book clutched defensively to her chest.
“What is this?” Stoyan hissed. His voice shook, but he held the weapon perfectly steady. “What do you want with us?”
“You have to listen, Stoyan,” said Tati, and she slipped the veil from her face so he could see that she was young and beautiful and as pale as frost on the hawthorn. “I can’t stay long and I’m not allowed to talk to Paula, not properly; it’s one of the rules. Each of us has a quest to fulfill, you and Paula and I. If you succeed, you will earn three rewards: one for courage, one for steadfastness, one for openness. Earn them well. Use them well. And please keep my sister safe.”
“Your—” Stoyan began, lowering the knife slightly, and a moment later I felt myself descending, becoming flesh and blood again, and there I was sitting at the table, looking up into his face and trying to still my trembling hands.
“I…I saw her,” I stammered. “I could hear her. But I was somewhere else…. Stoyan, sit down, you look as if you’re about to faint.”
“Paula!” He reached out a hand, touched my arm, my hair. He was as shocked as I was. “You are safe, unhurt? By all the saints…I do not know what to say.” He sheathed the knife, glancing along the colonnade at the women, who were now conferring with apparent urgency. I imagined them running to Irene or to Murat and telling a tale of how my bodyguard had been waving weapons around on the premises. I didn’t know exactly what they’d seen, but I’d need to reassure them or this could become very unpleasant.
“I’m sorry,” I called, getting to my feet. My legs would scarcely hold me. “My guard thought he heard an intruder in the garden. Please don’t be alarmed.”
The women did not look convinced.
“Are you sure you are safe, kyria?” one of them asked in halting Greek. “It seemed…” She glanced at Stoyan. “I thought the young man meant to harm you. That was the way it looked. Should I call Kyria Irene?”
Stoyan gathered himself, bowed respectfully, and called something to them in Turkish, his tone placatory.
“Really, we’re fine,” I added. As the women seated themselves once more, I lowered my voice. “Stoyan, that was my sister,” I told him. “Tatiana. I thought you were going to kill her.” Something occurred to me; something odd. “What language was she speaking?” I asked. I had understood her and so, it seemed, had Stoyan. Since Tati had never learned Greek, that ruled out the only tongue Stoyan and I had in common. Had she spoken in the strange language of the Other Kingdom, universally understood yet so ephemeral we could never remember it in our own world? It shocked me to recognize how far my eldest sister had drifted away from her old life.
“That doesn’t matter, Paula. We should leave right away. This is dangerous. What if you had not come back? If these forces draw you into another world, a realm beyond the earthly and human, I cannot follow you there.”
“It sounded as if Tati expected you to do just that. She was giving you a mission to accomplish. You are involved whether you like it or not. The fact that you could see her and those women couldn’t proves it. If they’d noticed me disappearing and being replaced by someone completely different, they certainly wouldn’t still be sitting along there.”
“I have a mission: protecting you while you are here in Istanbul. My instructions do not extend to dealing with manifestations like this. Against such a threat, I have no weapons.”
“I think Tati was saying you do. Courage, steadfastness, and openness. Those are the weapons you need.”
“For what? Why does this sister not tell us plainly what is required of us?”
I thought of Dragua, the witch of the wood. “She may not know,” I said. “The folk of the Other Kingdom never play simple games. If she could meet us properly and explain it clearly, she would have no need to appear and disappear or to remove me while she spoke to you. Perhaps she’s not very good at these manifestations yet. I mean, six years ago she was an ordinary human girl like me. But the longer she stays in that other world, the more like its inhabitants she becomes. That’s why her sweetheart, Sorrow, can never come back—he was taken by the Night People when he was only about ten and now he’s…different. The quest they set
